He was alone only in the self-contented contemplation of his work. Mondays and Fridays the shop was closed in observance of finishing orders; and having completed five in a total of six which had been placed only a month ago, the pride in his fastidious nature and judgment of order, having burnished his attention for detail and sharpened his sensibilities over the course of a decade - burned in his breast like a flame through paper.
Silently he admired his fingers, bending them to his will, the length, the curve, and girth of knuckle a pleasing reminder of acuity and perfection. Mindfully pursing his lips to the sugar of the brew, he swallowed it down, wrinkling his brow.
The jingle of the door bell cleaved through the clattering of glasses and the unison of multiple televisions, calling his attention thus. Out of the handful of females approaching, his eyes were instantly fixed by the one in the yellow dress, and though clearly overdressed, attracted the eye and whistles of several men.
His discomfort was readily apparent. Her complexion was instantly affected, and Gaston could only smirk, his chuckle puffed from his nose.
As they neared, he turned back to the counter and sipped; as they passed him, felt the draught at his back. When they settled onto their stools further down the counter, he deferred momentarily before pulling his wallet out from behind. A fresh twenty tucked between two fingers, he planted it on the counter, accompanying an indicative glance to the bartender before rising from his seat, mug in hand.
Fate or luck - or both - the vacant stool at her left was the direct result of being nearest to him when she’d entered. There he sidled himself. A glass with a concoction of pink, dressed with an umbrella and the rim lined with red sugar was punctually placed before them.
Clearing his throat, he wrinkled his brow and smirked. “If that dress is at all responsible, you’ve entered a den of complete bears if not lions, dear..!”
A chuckle rumbled in his throat. Almost as an afterthought, he added a bit of a smile.
"IIIII - take it you’re not accustomed to wearing tight dresses. - The bidding of your friends, perhaps.”